Little Things
by FernFrost
Summary: When Francis Bonnefoy loses everything, he clings to his son and fights all odds to assure he lives a full life. Will the Bonnefoy's finally find salvation with a green eyed stranger and his son? -AU-human names-yaoi-


**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia or any of the characters or idea's associated. **

**Rating:** M (for later chapters)

**Pairings:** FrancisXArthur

**Content:** worksafe

Summary sucks. I'm sorry. lol.

* * *

His eyes were wide. Large and full of constant wonder. A twinkle lay within the sparkling indigo hues that could capture and hold anyone forever. Golden locks of hair, softer then down. So soft, it was almost impossible to feel. Out of reach for the senses to comprehend. The face of an angel and a smile that pulled at the heart in such a way, it caused pause in all those who witnessed it. His hands were small. So small.

Those small hands were perhaps what Francis noticed first. That smallness. So vulnerable. The baby he held in his arms that stared up at him with awe, drove fear into his being. Fear of hurting him. Fear of dropping him. Fear of seeing those innocent eyes weeping in sadness. Fear that he might not be able to look after something so precious. The babe he held in his arms was to be treasured and worshipped. This child was never going to know hunger. He would never know sadness. He would never know the coldness of loss or pain. Francis was determined to protect the bundle in his arms. The now slumbering bundle. So sweet and delicate.

He would teach him all he knew. About life, about love. Francis wanted to give it all to him. He wanted to see the small and fragile boy to grow strong and healthy. To lead a full life. Francis vowed to tell him how much he was loved every morning, every afternoon, and every night before bed. He vowed to tuck him in at night and press loving kisses to his forehead. He vowed to keep him safe and happy for years to come. Until he himself could no longer breathe. Until his heart stopped. But even after leaving, he would watch over him. These were all the promises that Papa Francis had made to his sweet child. His sweet little...

"Matthieu.."

* * *

"Mon doux bébé ... Où sont toi?" (my sweet baby... where are you?) The familiar French voice travelled through the halls of the home and a small blonde boy, just a few months older the five years. Large indigo eys peered around the corner with a bright smile. A large stuffed bear was hugged tightly to his chest and the small boy ran down the narrow hallway. Hurdling himself towards the sound of the voice coming from the kitchen.

"Je suis ici Papa!" (I'm here papa!) His voice was small and soft. Just like he was. The mere sound of that voice pulled tightly at Francis' heart strings. Especially with what had been happening lately.

"There you are mon petit." Francis took the child into his arms and held him tightly. Matthew buried his face as he was lifted off the floor and brought to sit in Francis' lap at the small and chipped table. The Frenchman held the boy close, one arm wrapped around the child's waist, while the other held him close. His hand pressed to the back of Matthew's head in a supportive way. Cradling him where they sat, rocking him gently. His chin rested against his son's head. Burying his nose into the sweet smelling blonde locks of hair. The hair he had grown so fond of.

Matthew's hands were still small, but they were bigger then they used to be. His hair was longer, wavey like his Papa's. Silken and smooth. His little round face, so angellic and pure, was never without a smile and was always carefree. He didn't have a care in the world. Atleast, that was how Francis had wanted it.

"Papa, are we going to the park again today?" Francis bit back the tears that threatened to start falling. The pressure he felt weighing down on him was a constant waking nightmare. The passed six months had been nothing short of hell. The company he had worked for folded and everything he had stock in crashed. He lost absolutely everything within a thirty four hour time period.

The home that he and his son stayed in was much to expensive to keep. He had tried to stay hopeful, he had tried to keep the house, feeling that a new position would open itself to him. That a new job would be easy to find, but he very soon found out that he wasn't the only one suffering. Repossession. One word that ruined the Frenchman. He had lied to Matthew at first. Telling him that they would get their things back, but when they lost the house aswell, it was then he could no longer lie. What money he did have left, was in the form of twenties and one fifty in pounds in his wallet.

"Papa?" The small voice breaks Francis from his thoughts and causes the older male to smile.

"Non Matthieu." He said softly, running his fingers through the blonde's hair. "We are going on an adventure today. We are going to go and get you something to eat mon petit, then we are going to try and find a new place to sleep." The home they were in now, was small. It wasn't even theirs. It was an abandoned home. A place, that Francis learned, catered to squatters. A friendly group. Small and kind. But he couldn't bring himself to stay with them here. To infringe in their life. He couldn't be around them. Why? It was like looking in a mirror. A mirror reflecting what their life had become, and he couldn't stand it.

"... Another place? Papa, si vous plait.. I want to stay here. I like it here, and look..." He shows his bear to Francis, practically shoving the dirtied bear in his face. "Kumajinno likes it here. Look.." He said. Tiny arms quickly pulled the bear tightly against his chest once more and he sighed. Francis felt sick.

"Je suis desole mon bébé.. But we have to go. I promise. The next place will be even better. Oui?" (i'm sorry my baby) Matthew blinked at his Papa in confusion, but he nodded.

"Oui Papa.." The small boy missed his Papa. He missed how he used to smile all the time. He missed how they used to laugh and play games together. He missed his bed and his polarbear printed sheets. He missed falling asleep in his Papa's arms while he had his favourite story read to him. But he was told he could get that all back. They just had to wait a little while, but Matthew had decided that it didn't matter to him. As long as he had his bear and his Papa, nothing mattered. Nothing at all mattered, because his bear was his best and only friend and his Papa was his world. He had everything he needed.

"I love you Matthieu." He pressed a kiss to Matthew's forehead and smiled softly at his boy. His beautiful baby. So small and delicate. Precious in every way. He needed to be protected.

* * *

London was an unforgiving city. Atleast, to those without money, and even less to those who were French. Just like every city on the planet. Unless you have six figures behind your name, no one treats you with decent respect, and if you are a foreigner, its even worse. An accent and no money. A child aswell. Did no one really care? Could they even be seen? People would bump into his darling Mattieu and knock the child to his knees. Scraping them in some instances and crying from the sting. But did anyone stop? No. Why? Because he was there. Obviously, he could look after a child. The child that apparently didn't need apologies.

Francis hugged his son close and made sure the bear was always safe aswell. Help wanted signs were posted here and there, but every time he would apply, he never got called back. Now, without phone or home, it was virtually impossible to find a place that would look at him twice.

As they passed by a window full of treats and toys, Matthew looked inside, not pausing in his pace. Watching the other children inside. Brilliant happy faces, gripping bags of candy and eating some. Some hugging large toys close. One's even bigger then his bear. But none of them where as lucky as he was. He had his Papa and his bear was the best. His mother gave it to him, and therefore, it was the best bear in the world. He hugged it tighter and gripped his Papa's hand a little tighter. But it would still be nice to have a chocolate sometime.

Francis noticed the attention the shop was getting by his son, so he stopped.

"Matthieu?" He asked softly. Crouching down next to him. "Would you like to go in and have a piece of chocolat?" The small blonde looked at him with wide eyes.

"... Can I Papa?" Francis smiled and nodded. Candy was so expensive, but he wanted his son to experience as much as possible and he didn't want him to be without. Ever. Francis rose to his feet again and took Matthew's hand. Holding it in a loving, but firm grip, he lead the small boy into the shop. A place that they looked quiet out of place. Amongst all the bright coloured clothes and toys. The candies and even the people were dressed as such. Bright, happy. They lived comfortably, and that much could be seen. Matthew and Francis weren't exactly wearing silk.

Matthew had on a brown turtleneck sweater. Holes here and there in the shirt. Francis had done his best to patch it up, but the material was just too far gone. A pair of old blue jeans to go too. Francis also was wearing a pair, no matter how much it killed him to be wearing blue jeans, but he didn't exactly have a choice. He wore an old and stained white top. One of his own, but it was far from its former glory, and over top, he wore a zip up sweater with patternd decoration around the cuffs and waist band.

As soon as the two stepped in, they started recieving looks. Francis tried to keep his precious boy from seeing the looks, but it was impossible by this point. Francis ignored the people and moved to the chocolates. Letting his boy select a bar while he watched over him.

"Watch out!" The owner of the voice couldn't be seen, but a rather energetic and bouncing child came tearing through the area. His sights were too focused on the new train set in his arms to care about anyone around him. The long box that the boy struggled with, along with said child, collided with Matthew, knocking him to the floor. His bear went up in the air, and the Bonnefoy child fell back into the treats rack, knocking everything to the floor with a crash. There were a series of gasps, and Francis got down fast to try and help his weeping and shaken son off the floor.

"Shhh, mon petit érable, shhh.. Il va bien. Il va bien." ( my little maple, It's alright.) He tried to calm him. Hugging the child close, he picked the tatty bear up and gave it to Matthew. Suddenly, the sound of an angry Brit came through, loud and clear.

"Alfred! I told you to stay! But you never listen! Now look, poor child is sobbing, and look at the mess you've caused."

"I didn't mean it! Stop being such a mean old man!" Alfred had to have been atleast three years older then Matthew. Eight years of age wasn't too far a guess, but what struck Francis was how remarkably similar they looked. It was uncanny. But he shook his thoughts away and watched the upset father enter the picture.

Now, Francis didn't mean to stare. He really didn't, but those eyebrows... so.. thick and full and just... so there. It was almost half expected that they might pop off and wave a hello at him. Yet, they just looked so good on the Englishman.

"I'm sorry, I hope your boy wasn't hurt." Francis blinked, then cracked a charming smile.

"Non, it is alright. He is fine, just a little startled I thi-"

"Oi!" A voice from the obvious manager of the building came out. He didn't look too impressed with the situation, and Francis could almost see the mist of rage building and thickening. "You better pay for that!" Francis froze, and looked at the chocolates and other candies strewn across the floor. The rack had a break in the frame, a frame that was too weak to be supporting that amount of sugar anyway, and Francis was betting that the crack was there before this happened.

"I'll pay for it." The sandy haired gentleman stated, moving towards the manager and pulling out a few bills. Francis simply picked his child up, and held him close. Matthew resting against him, face buried in the crook of his neck.

"Monsieur, you don't need to-"

"Yes I do. My idiot son didn't listen, and because of that, this happened." Francis smiled at the Brit thankfully before turning to leave.

"Merci, merci beaucoup." He said quickly. Their welcome in the building was clearly overstayed, and he doubted they would ever be allowed back inside after that incident. But just as he was about to head out the door, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Wait, I never got your name." Francis paused and raised an eyebrow, though he slowly looked back into those emerald hues and gave him another smile.

"Francis Bonnefoy. You?"

"Arthur Kirkland."

* * *

**AN-** Don't even ask. I have no idea where this came from, but it did. It dropped from the sky and landed on my head. I absolutely had to get it written down and share it as fast as possible, case I wanna know if this idea (so far) is worth it. XD I have the whole thing mapped out in my head space atm. Which.. btw.. looks really sexy.. lol.

OH! and PLEASE Forgive OOCness. But this IS an AU after all. I try.. thats what counts... I think.

Comments please! I'll love you forever, and I'll give all of you cookies, and ya. What do you think so far?


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